Silver Tower
by irmaida
Summary: He lives in a tower. The deeper you work, the more important you are. The ones that live on the highest floor are most likely to be bombed. Seventy-five years before the Katniss Everdeen even entered the arena, there was a Rebellion. Seven months in life of a brother and sister living in District Thirteen during the Dark Days, where up is down and down is up. For Nami.


Silver Tower

summary: He lives in a tower. The deeper you work, the more important you are. The ones that live on the highest floor are most likely to be bombed. Seventy-five years before the Katniss Everdeen even entered the arena, there was a Rebellion. Seven months in life of a brother and sister living in District Thirteen during the Dark Days, where up is down and down is up. For Nami.

_July_

I.

Rosalinda thinks

i.n.f.r.a.g.m.e.n.t.s.

(Sometimes)

She thinks that way because she thinks

It sounds pretty

She wants to be a poet when she grows up

II.

Stairs. Julio's life is characterized by stairs. Lots and lots of stairs. Stairs going up, up, up, stairs going down, down, underground. Some stairs go up in a straight line, but most curl and go round and round and round, like the stairs in a castle tower. The stairs are in a tower, really. But not a castle tower. A fortress tower.

It's because of his job, because of where he lives. The stairs are tiring, but he's used to it. He's an apprentice. When he gets promoted, he'll have his own apprentice to run errands all up and down the stairs for him. But he doesn't mind. He is tall and lean with long legs, built for running up and down stairs. And because he's only sixteen he's lucky to be an apprentice anyways. Only the best get to work in this tower. The tower of the scientists, the experimentalists. The ones really behind the Rebellion, the fight for their freedom.

_August_

I.

"Good morning, Mother," says Julio cheerily. "I mean, Dr. Releford," he quickly corrects himself.

"Don't be silly, Julio," says Dr. Releford. She, like her son, is a tall woman with brown hair cut short and light blue eyes. "To you I'll always be Mother. I would hug you, but I don't think I'm completely safe to hug right now." Sure enough, her lab coat is stained with splotches of color and chemicals, and there are gray fumes coming off her gloves.

"What are you working on?" he asks eagerly, handing over the notes he got from the man at the top of the stairs, in the observatory tower. His mother works deep underground, and it was a long trip, but considering he's not only her son but also her apprentice, he is eager to please her. In fact, her room is almost the deepest room in the entire tower. He's proud of his mother—the deeper you work, the more important you are. The very deepest room, of course, belongs to the President, who also happens to be the Head of the Rebellion, Mr. Tenaglia.

"It's a special kind of gas designed to send people to sleep," his mother explains, disposing her gloves and putting on a fresh pair to flip through the notes. "Harmless, but very useful. Thanks for the notes, by the way."

He beams. "So, do you want me to do anything else?"

"Yes. You can the rest of the notes out loud for me while I work on this gas. Be sure to get a mask from the storeroom, okay?"

After getting a gas mask from the storeroom (which is two floors up), he reads the notes out loud to his mother. The notes detail the spotting of a Capitol hovercraft and how it is predicted to reach District Thirteen in just a few hours. The hovercraft is thought to have bombs in it.

"Bombs, that's the best they can think of? You would think those Capitol scientists had more originality," mutters Dr. Releford. "Do me a favor, Julio, and go give these notes to the President. I'll alert the rest of the scientists on my floor."

II.

Their entire housing unit is deep underground so they do not need to worry about the bombings, but their house is crowded with less prominent workers from the higher floors trying to stay safe.

President Tenaglia comes to visit. He is a large man with perfectly combed silver hair and cold eyes. "Do you think, Dr. Releford, that you and your team of scientists could examine some of the bombs after it's over? Perhaps we can imitate the design and use the Capitol's own bombs against them."

(Rosalinda doesn't like the President. He's too cold.)

"Isn't that unfair, President?" one of the scientists ask. It's Dr. Lillulo. Rosalinda recognizes her because she's the only scientist Rosalinda really likes—beside her mother, of course. But sometimes Mother is very cold with her severely cut hair and cold blue eyes, like the President. Dr. Lillulo, on the other hand, is warm and talks like a poem. "After all, the majority of Capitol citizens are harmless. It's the corrupted government and the scientists on the puppet strings that are causing all the trouble. And these bombs cause high-scale destruction to the innocents."

"Do you _dare _question my orders?" the President snaps. "Besides, that corrupted government doesn't care at all for the high-scale destruction they're causing _here_, do they?"

Dr. Lillulo immediately apologizes and says nothing, but Rosalinda knows where she's coming from. It's the same thing in District Thirteen. They—the corrupted government and the scientists on puppet strings—live in a high-tech, half-collapsible tower that will completely go underground with a few keystrokes. But the rest of District Thirteen are small mining businesses that are completely aboveground and are the ones that actually suffer from the bombings. If the Capitol is anything like District Thirteen, then they shouldn't be bombed either.

(Rosalinda doesn't like the President. He's too cold.)

"Get those thoughts out of your head, Rosalinda," snaps her brother, Julio. Julio is two years older but sometimes he acts as if he is Father. And he has Mother's blue eyes. Rosalinda's eyes are brown, like Dr. Lillulo's. She supposes she got them from her father, but she wouldn't know—she never met him. "I know that look. And whatever you're thinking, you're wrong, because this Rebellion is for the greater good even if it costs a few silly lives."

"But don't those lives matter?"

(There's a poem in that line, she thinks.)

_October_

I.

The next few weeks are very busy. Julio runs all up and down the stairs, giving messages to the President and to other scientists. His mother is working on the Capitol bomb, a difficult task because all she has is splintered remains to work with. But if anyone can do it, his mother can. Julio is proud.

His mother, often being busy, doesn't have time to go home and sleeps in the lab. So Julio and Rosalinda go home alone at nighttime and watch the news and then go to sleep. Their father was killed in the line of duty years ago, before Rosalinda was born and much too young for Julio to remember anything. Julio's been told that the Capitol killed him. It's part of the reason he wants to see the Rebellion succeed so badly.

II.

Dr. Lillulo was fired. She works in the observatory tower now—which is on the highest floor, the floor for the lowest occupations. People who work on the highest floors are most likely to be killed by Capitol bombs.

Rosalinda watches the news frequently, sees how the other Districts have been suffering. Not only have they been bombed, the Districters look thinner and more tired.

"But look, Rosie," says Julio. "The Capitol is suffering too." And it's true. Some parts of the Capitol look almost as bad as the Districts. _Some_.

"When the Districts win, Rosie," Julio continues, "President Tenaglia will take over and end all of this. The rest of the world can be like us, District Thirteen, advanced and leading the world, without the Capitol's hindrances." His eyes shine.

"But Julio," says Rosalinda, "we aren't going to bomb the Capitol the way they bomb us, right?"

Her brother doesn't answer. He's too busy lost in his fantasies.

(And that's okay, she thinks. She gets lost all the time. She only hopes the fantasies won't hurt him.)

_November_

I.

The bomb has been abandoned, his mother tells him, and has been replaced by a new project including the sleeping gas. It's a special, completely District Thirteen engineered sort of bomb that will simply put people to sleep. They are planning to drop it into the Capitol and then sneak inside to get the Capitol President.

"After all, Julio, we do want to win this war with as few casualties as possible," Dr. Releford tells him. Julio nods. His mother is so compassionate.

When he goes home, Rosalinda is writing in her little black notebook. Rosalinda wants to be a poet. Julio thinks it's silly and a waste of time, but it's very important to her so he just lets her do it. She isn't harming anyone, at least. But his sister ought to stop spending so much time in the observatory tower. The people on the top floors aren't as good or intelligent as the people down here underground. They'll contaminate her.

II.

"Now Rosie," says Dr. Lillulo. "Why aren't you in school?"

"It's Saturday," Rosalinda explains.

"Really? You lose track of time up here. But don't you usually do something else on Saturdays? Go out with your friends or something?" she asks.

Rosalinda shrugs. "I wanted to come visit you. I don't think it's fair you got fired."

Dr. Lillulo sighs. "It's the way things are, Rosie. I made a mistake." The doctor leans over the fence on the edge of the tower and looks down. "But in all honesty, Rosie, I think we all made a mistake. Outside of our own silver tower, this is what happens inside our _own _District. And not because we can't afford it—I _know _we can afford it. Because the President wants to spend it on bombs and experiments and guns all for the 'greater good.'"

Rosalinda leans over the fence and outside of the open window. She's always loved the view, the view of puffy white clouds and blue skies. And then she looks down. What she sees is terrible. She didn't know such things existed outside of television, and especially in their own District. The people are starving. They are dirty and sick. They shiver from the cold. The ground is bleak and bombed.

(There's a poem in that too.)

Dr. Lillulo gives Rosalinda an ink pen. "Don't tell anyone what I said, okay? Except maybe your book of poems."

Rosalinda nods and makes a motion of zipping her lips. Then she goes downstairs. And that night, instead of watching television with Julio, she opens up the little black notebook where she writes all her poems and writes what Dr. Lillulo told her. She writes her own thoughts too.

_But is that enough?_ she wonders. Is it enough to keep her mouth closed and write these little notes secretly in her black notebook? Everyone should know what's going on. But even when she tries to tell her own brother, he doesn't listen.

Maybe she can _show _them.

_December_

I.

Julio continues on helping his mother create the bomb, getting supplies and such. He seems to be getting more trusted now. There's less running up and down stairs and more actual working. He's allowed to touch some of the materials and do some of the actual work on the sleeping bomb.

"You've been such a big help, Julio," says Dr. Releford. "In fact, I've put an appeal for you in the President's office. Do you know what that means?"

"I'll get to be a scientist like you?"

Dr. Releford nods. "After schooling, of course. But you've already been apprenticing for me for almost a year. And you're my son."

He's grinning from ear to ear. "Oh really? That's amazing!"

"I know, Julio. But remember, no hugs." She winks.

II.

_I'm rebelling against the Rebellion to the Capitol_

_We start with a noble cause_

_But if we want to achieve that at any cost_

_Are we just stooping to their level?_

Throughout the entire month, she uses her family's cellular phone as a camera and takes various pictures from the observatory tower. She asks some of the workers on the top floor for what they think about the Rebellion. Maybe it's living so high that gives them such clear heads, but the lowly janitors and clerks seem to know so much more than her mother and the President.

She writes poems, too.

_January _

I.

His sister is dead.

He can't believe it. She fell out of the observatory tower window, his mother explains in a solemn voice, reading the sympathy card from the President. Julio listens, his head pounding, and asks if he can take the day off.

"But Julio, we're so close. We're so close to finishing up the bomb," his mother tells him. But she lets him off anyways.

Falling out of the observatory window. How many times had he told his sister not to go up there? Sweet little Rosalinda, only fourteen. He collapses in front of the television but feels sick and goes inside the spacious kitchen for a glass of water. And then, head still spinning, he goes into Rosalinda's room for some reason. And on her bedside table, he seems a lump of what looks like black coal.

No, it isn't black coal. It's Rosalinda's prized little black notebook, he realizes. He gets closer but the entire thing has been burned into a charred lump. And that's when he feels even more sick. Because Rosalinda's death couldn't have been an accident.

And then he's running, running up to the observatory where Rosalinda spent so much of her time, and he runs into Dr. Lillulo.

"Why the rush, Julio? Shouldn't you be downstairs in your mother's lab? I hear you're getting promoted, by the way. Congratulations."

Ignoring Dr. Lillulo, he runs over to the edge and leans on the fence. The observatory is silent for a while, except for the sound of the wind, and Julio just looks up towards the sky.

"Is this where she fell off?" he asks meekly.

He hears footsteps coming closer and a warm hand on his shoulder. "Julio, you and I both know your sister didn't fall off."

He looks up into the older woman's weary brown eyes and feels tears running down his cheeks, cold against the wind. "Why?"

"I don't know why. My guess? She was too close to the truth, your sister. And she wanted to tell everyone else. And she's so much like your father. I think it was scaring the President." She is quiet for a while. "Julio, that bomb your mother is working on doesn't just send people to sleep."

It takes him a while to comprehend. And just as he does, there is the sound of heavy footsteps running up the stairs. A glimpse of silver hair, as slick and neat as ever. He has just enough time to turn around.

II.

Julio thinks

i.n.f.r.a.g.m.e.n.t.s

* * *

For Nami, aka silver-nightstorm in Caesar Palace's Valentine Day fic exchange. I hope you enjoyed. Review?


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